


It seems like a good idea right now

by keikoHPfan



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Community: sexy_right, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keikoHPfan/pseuds/keikoHPfan
Summary: John doesn’t really know what to say. He’s never been big on words, and now that there’s nothing to yell to the kid, like ‘get down’ or ‘come on’ or even ‘will you shut up’, he’s kind of at loss.Will be slash.





	It seems like a good idea right now

**_John_ **

John doesn’t really know what to say. He’s never been big on words, and now that there’s nothing to yell to the kid, like ‘get down’ or ‘come on’ or even ‘will you shut up’, he’s kind of at loss.

Not to mention his shoulder hurts like hell, he’s got the mother of all headaches, and the kid keeps on making little pained sounds that really don’t help John feeling better about himself. He should have protected Farrell better. Should have prevented him from getting hurt. Should have reacted better, faster, so that the kid didn’t have to kill someone to save them all.

John winces as his shoulder throbs and sighs loudly.

The thing is, he is fucking grateful that Farrell proved to be more than a skinny hacker who plays with silly dolls. Right. _Collectibles_. And at the same time, every time he closes his eyes, he sees the kid’s face, white as a ghost, as he lowered the gun after shooting that bastard who worked for Gabriel down. He sees the instant Farrell realized what it meant, what he had done, he recalls the way the kid’s eyes had widened, relief and anguish and pain all showing on his face.

He remembers what it did to him, the first time he took a life. He knows that the kid has tough times ahead. He knows he should fucking say something, make Farrell talk or some shit.

He knows. He just doesn’t know _how_. He’s never been big on talking.

 

**_Matt_ **

Matt really tries to be brave. He knows that McLane doesn’t especially wants to be stuck with him during his recovery. That dude from the FBI – Bowman – really wanted to keep an eye on them both though, and it made things easier for his goons to have only one room to watch.

Ok, he’s probably being unfair to Bowman, the man proved himself to be quite decent in the end. But, still. It’s the fucking FBI, and Matt doesn’t trust them one bit.

Matt risks a glance in McLane’s general direction. The man still looks very pissed. He also looks very hot in his hospital gown and that’s something Matt will have to deal with later. Matt tries very hard not to sob when the pain in his knee becomes too much all of a sudden, and he bites down on his lip as hard as he can.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, and he is, because he wishes he was just a bit stronger.

He doesn’t look at McLane then, but he can imagine the look on his face just alright.

“Don’t fucking say you’re sorry.” There’s a sigh, and then Matt can hear McLane’s bed creak under his shifting weight. “You’ve been shot. Need me to call the nurse?”

Matt shakes his head and he can feel tears burning his eyes, and oh God if he cries now he will never be able to look at McLane in the eye again.

“Hey, kid. Fuck.”

There’s a muffled grunt and a long string of swear words, and suddenly McLane’s grey sweat pants and the bottom of his hospital gown appear in Matt’s field of view.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Matt. You did well. If you need more meds, there’s no shame In that.”

“You don’t need more” Matt points out, and he feels really awkward with McLane being so close and imposing – even in a hospital gown, the guy looks indestructible.

“Yeah, well. I’ve been shot at a few times. My pain threshold is probably high. Also, I’m an old fuck, and pain meds fuck with my stomach.”

Matts chuckles and finally raises his head. McLane looks weirdly pleased, his eyes twinkling as he smirks.

“I’m okay. Not super fond of meds either. They make me feel slow.”

McLane rolls his eyes.

“That brain of yours probably needs the break, kid. Just call the nurse if you need to, okay?”

Matts nods and watches as McLane slowly makes his way back to his bed, huffing and grunting as he settles himself against his pillow.

“Thank you, McLane.”

“Don’t thank me, kid. And call me John.”

That’s unexpected. Matt looks up in surprise, but McLane’s – John’s?- eyes are closed. So he doesn’t say anything, just tries to get comfortable even if that pillow seems made of cardboard, and decides to smile through the pain.

Maybe he can do this after all.


End file.
